


The Weariness in the Heart

by lovetvfan



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-27 15:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetvfan/pseuds/lovetvfan
Summary: Set just after the gravedigger case and just before the season 5 finale in which everyone goes their separate ways. Brennan is still having nightmares of losing Booth and Hodgins is dealing with his anger. This sort of fills in the gaps leading to their decision to part ways at the end of season 5.
Relationships: Jack Hodgins/Angela Montenegro, Seeley Booth/Temperance Brennan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Brennan and Booth**

The night was cool and filled with promise. People bustled to and fro outside the doors of _The Founding Fathers_ pub. Cars and taxis rushed by, their headlights reflecting off the road. Colours, lights and sounds mingled together creating a buzz of activity. The city was bright and full of life and so were those who congregated outside the pub as they said their farewells to one another. Doctor Temperance Brennan watched with detached affection as two of her best friends left for home, newly married and deeply in love. She was happy for them, and more than a little wistful.

Not for the first time, she wondered why it was so easy for others to believe that love could last forever. Why was she the only one who seemed to rationally understand just how unlikely it was that someone could be happy with one person for the rest of their lives? Looking at them, a stranger might think tonight was just another night out. In fact, they’d just completed one of the most difficult trials of their lives. Heather Taffet, the killer also known as the Gravedigger, had almost managed to evade conviction for the murders and attempted murders she had committed.

A serial killer case was difficult in and of itself, but this one was intensely personal as Taffet had managed to bury Brennan, Booth and Hodgins alive. For days leading up to the trial she’d been having nightmares. Vivid and visceral, she would watch helplessly as Hodgins and Booth were ripped away from her and killed. She would scream until she was hoarse, but to no avail. She’d wake every night in a cold sweat, the image of Booth being ripped away from her as fresh as the tears on her face.

Rationally, she knew the nightmares were her brain’s way of coping with the fact that Taffet had almost killed them. But it didn’t make them any easier. She hoped that with the case closed the nightmares would cease, but as she watched Hodgins and Angela lean on one another as their figures retreated into the distance, she couldn’t suppress the feeling of loneliness. They had each other. Whatever residual issues that Hodgins was experiencing, he had Angela to help him. And while she knew that Booth would listen to her if she needed to talk, it wasn’t the same. She had nobody to go home to. Nobody to hold her when she woke up in the night, trembling and terrified. Nobody to love her.

“Can't believe they actually got hitched,” Booth said cutting into her thoughts. The world could be a funny place at times. He was happy for the two of them, but there was also a resting sadness that seemed to intensify whenever he saw others getting the happy ending he so desperately craved. Most of the time he was able to subjugate it – to hide the longing for family and a life of domesticity behind his work and his partnership with Bones, but tonight, after the everything that happened with Taffet, it was tougher to do so. A wound had been opened for all of them and he wasn’t sure how to close it.

“I know,” Brennan said absently. She breathed deeply in the night air, hoping to feel the sense of peace and accomplishment that she usually felt after a difficult case. Instead, all she felt was restlessness and lingering anxiety from the nightmares that had plagued her for the last few nights. _It was just the case_ , she told herself. Residual fear and trauma from being buried alive. It was not something a person forgot easily. She wanted to believe that, but something told her there was more at stake here – especially when she looked into the eyes of her partner. “I have this sense that everything's changing, Booth.” Her words were hesitant – almost fearful. As if saying aloud what she’d been feeling would cause it to manifest. What that was, she still wasn’t sure but something wasn’t right.

“Well, not everything,” he countered. He sounded reasonable, but she’d learned enough from him about body language to note the worried look in his eye. He was scared. Of what, she couldn’t be sure. But he clearly wanted reassurance, and she wasn’t sure that she was able to give it. “Look, we're still partners. Right?”

She nodded, but deep down something told her that their partnership wasn’t the same. Something had changed when he told her how he felt about her, and no matter how hard they both tried to ignore that, it only seemed to be more apparent when something like this happened. Booth continued talking, as if trying to banish both of their fears through sheer force of will.

“And-and Taffet. She's-she's put away. I mean, you're feeling good about that, right?” He smiled that thousand-watt smile he reserved for cheering her up in dark moments. Usually it worked, but tonight, she couldn’t seem to muster up that familiar feeling that smile usually evoked.

“You almost died, Booth. That can happen again.” She hated that her nightmares had gotten so far under her skin, but she couldn’t seem to banish the image of Booth being swept away from her. Nor could she get rid of the feeling of terrified helplessness that accompanied it. She hated feeling so weak and what’s more, she hated that the weakness she was feeling was tied to the life of another individual. She’d spent so long refusing to connect or rely on people because they ultimately leave. What would happen if another Taffet came along? What would she do if she lost him? Before she could stop herself, she voiced those fears out loud. “What if, next time, I can't get to you?”

“It's not going to happen again,” he insisted, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and kiss every single fear away. He’d seen Bones in a lot of situations, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her so on edge, so…unsure of herself. The fact that her fears seemed to be centred around his safety made him even more determined to reassure her. And yet, they weren’t together. She’d made it clear to him that taking a risk like that was a bridge too far. He thought he’d accepted that – even started to date again. And yet, when confronted with her pain, those feelings came flooding back and that familiar feeling of frustration took over.

“I envy your ability to substitute optimism for reality,” Brennan replied. She knew she sounded tired – weary in a way she had never felt before. She knew her answers were not what he wanted to hear – could see in his eyes how important it was to him that things go back to the way they were. And she wanted that too. But she wasn’t sure she could do it anymore. She wasn’t sure she could keep pretending that he was just a friend. She wasn’t ready to admit her feelings ran deeper than that, and yet the trial had brought up one indisputable fact. If she lost him, it wouldn’t matter if they were involved or not – the hurt would be the same. Which meant her attempts to protect herself were pointless.

She blinked, hoping to keep the tears that threatened at bay. The street glittered with lights from buildings, cars, and various different businesses. All around them, the world went on – oblivious to the feelings or events taking place between this small little group of people. And yet, this place, this pub, this man, was her world. She wasn’t sure she could live without him and she knew the longer they worked together the harder it would be for her when it eventually ended. And it would. He would find someone to share his life with and eventually their partnership would take a back seat in his life. She’d become a footnote – somebody he used to know. She couldn’t bear the thought of becoming little more than a faded memory to him.

“You know what?” Booth said, trying to find a compromise that would halt the inevitable conclusion that she seemed to be headed towards. He hated to even think it, but it felt like she wanted to end their partnership. It felt like she was pulling away from him even further than she already had. “Maybe you just need to take some time off. Go to a beach. Lay in the sun.” 

“I might need more than a little time.” And there it was. She’d said it out loud. The look in his eyes told her that her words had their intended effect. He moved closer to her, and his voice took on a slightly urgent tinge.

“Don't make any decisions about your future right now.” He hoped he didn’t sound like he was pleading, but he also knew that he wasn’t too proud to beg. He needed her. Needed her in his life in some way, shape or form.

“I'm just saying...”

“You know when a dentist gives you anaesthetic and tells you not to operate any heavy machinery or make any important decisions within twenty-four hours?” He wanted to touch her. Wanted to tip her chin up, meet her gaze and hold her close. Instead, he put on his most charming smile, and decided that if he could just get her to come back inside the pub, everything would be okay. He could make it okay. “Alright, this case was bigger than a root canal. Come on, let's just go back inside and have one more drink. Come on. Just one.” 

He reached out for her hand, but she pulled away. His heart dropped. On any other night, they would go back inside _The Founding Fathers_ and order another beer. They would talk and laugh until they were too tired or too drunk and then they would go home to their respective places and he would fall asleep knowing that everything was going to be okay.

“No,” she said, trying not to look into his hopeful eyes. She knew she was hurting him – knew that he could see her pulling away. But it was for her own good – for their own good. He still had a chance to be happy and she needed to focus on work that mattered. She was tired of being chased by serial killers or fearing for her life. She wanted to make a difference. “I'm tired, Booth. I-I-I'm going to go home.”

“Alright,” he said, shoulders slumping. They weren’t getting anywhere tonight. Perhaps things were still too raw with the Gravedigger case. Bones would come around. She had to. He reached out and hailed a cab. “Come on. Let's-we'll get you in the cab.”

The cab pulled up and he put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the taxi. Brennan could feel his disappointment and it weighed on her like an anchor. She hated to hurt him – hated it more than anything. But she also knew she couldn’t bear to care for him anymore than she did now. Another Gravedigger could come along tomorrow and if she lost him, she wasn’t sure she could recover. He was still talking as he helped her into the cab. Ever the gentleman, her Booth.

“I know, it's-it's been a long, long day. Alright, get in there, alright?”

She climbed into the cab, and watched as he struggled to smile at her.

“Hey. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell him she would see him tomorrow. They would meet for breakfast at the diner. She would order a coffee and a muffin and he would go on about the pie. She would tell him that pie was not a breakfast food and he would disagree until his phone rang and they would have a fresh new murder for them to solve. But the words wouldn’t leave her lips. Somehow, she knew that the day’s verdict had changed things. She might be behind bars, but Heather Taffet had won all the same.

She shut the door to the taxi and turned to tell the driver her address. When she looked back, she could see him standing there on the corner, watching the car drive away. She couldn’t help but notice how small and lonely he looked standing there surrounded by rushing traffic and laughing people leaving the bar. He deserved better than this. He deserved better than her. She knew this and yet for some reason had continued to hold on tight – even after telling him that she wasn’t ready to give herself to him the way he was to her. And she hated herself for it. Hated herself for wanting him so much. Hated herself for being too scared to act on those feelings and hated herself even more for causing him pain.

Booth had been right about one thing. It had been a long day and she shouldn’t make any decisions that night. She turned back around and took another deep breath, closing her eyes as the city rushed by her and trying to banish the dark thoughts from her mind. She would be home soon. Her apartment was a haven and she would take refuge in the solitude of her own thoughts. Being alone had always been a comfort to her. But tonight, for the first time, she found herself wondering if she should have taken him up on the offer to have one more drink. Maybe he’d been right – a bit of conversation and their usual banter and all would feel right with the world.

Booth watched as the taxi faded from view. He felt defeated in a way he never had before. Something had changed between them – a shift that he couldn’t quite pinpoint or define. It felt as if there was no going back. Whatever was going to happen would happen regardless of whether he wanted it or not. He hated feeling helpless. He wasn’t that guy. He was a man of action. He got things done. If Bones was in trouble, he fixed it. But he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t take her fears away, nor protect her from her nightmares.

He sighed and looked back at the door to the bar. What he really wanted to do was go back inside and drink himself into oblivion. He wanted to forget all the heartache of the last few months – from the declaration of his feelings to her, to the trial and all the memories it brought up. But he knew that the answer was not at the bottom of a bottle. It was the only good thing his father ever taught him.

He had to be better than that. Sighing, he reached out and hailed a cab for himself. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew that he could handle it as long as he managed to keep Bones by his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Angela and Hodgins**

Angela didn’t think she would ever get used to the scale or the grandeur of Hodgins’ estate. It was completely at odds with the image of the unassuming mad scientist that he projected every day at work and with his friends. Angela had known men with money before, and most of them were very eager to let her know they had money – to flash it in front of her as a means of impressing her. It only ever resulted in her walking away. If she’d learned anything from having a musician for a father, it was that money had a tendency to bring out the ugliness in people. Angela only wanted to see beauty.

And there was so much beauty in Jack Hodgins. It was why she’d gone against her better judgement and agreed go on a to date with him in the first place. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have feelings for him, but to date someone at work was a dicey prospect. And at the time, she hadn’t been sure she wanted anything beyond a casual fling. One look in Hodgins’ eyes the first time he asked her out told her that a fling with him would be anything but casual. Hodgins was the forever type, and Angela wasn’t sure she was capable of forever.

But he’d broken through her defences. Their first date had been one of the most enjoyable nights of her life. She hadn’t expected to genuinely enjoy his company as much as she had. At the time, she’d thought the attraction to him was purely sexual. Discovering it wasn’t spooked her and it took a while before she was able to acknowledge that there was in fact something real between them.

The two of them stumbled up his extremely long laneway, laughing as they held onto one another. Both were slightly tipsy from the drinks at _The Founding Fathers_ and riding an emotional high from the success of the Gravedigger trial.

Angela never thought she was capable of hating someone the way she hated Heather Taffet. And yet, in a weird way, she had Taffet to thank for her present relationship with Hodgins. She’d been scared of her feelings for him and that first date only served to enhance her fears. She’d pulled back from him, telling him that she wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship he had clearly wanted from her. He’d seemed disappointed by the decision, but had accepted it.

And then the Gravedigger kidnapped him and Brennan and buried them alive. Angela could still remember the terror she felt in knowing that her best friend and the man she was developing serious feelings for were trapped somewhere underground and counting on her and the rest of the Jeffersonian team to save them.

She remembered feeling as if she was in a waking nightmare as the clock ticked down. The only thing that saved her from falling apart was the knowledge that Booth, Cam, and Zack were equally as scared and determined to find them and get them home safely. And they had. Hodgins had managed to send a message meant for Zack on his cell phone with information on how to find them. Zack had used his brilliant brain to decipher the message and Hodgins and Brennan had nearly died setting off the airbags in the car to let Booth know where they were. It had come down to the very last second, but they’d made it.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. And for Angela and Hodgins, it had been the beginning – the real beginning. She remembered going to visit him in the hospital only to find he’d left without being discharged stealing a pair of crutches in the process. She eventually found him in the lab, huddled over a microscope with the injuries from his ordeal still freshly visible. Her heart had lurched when she saw him so broken and fragile and yet so determined to catch the person who had done this to him. She tried to get him to leave the lab – to convince him to go home and get some rest.

It wasn’t until he looked at her, that she saw the extent of the trauma he’d suffered in the depths of his eyes. He’d insisted that he needed to work – needed to catch the person who had done this to him and to Brennan. But it was when his voice broke and he admitted to not being able to sleep because he was so afraid, that Angela knew she had fallen hopelessly and irrevocably in love with him. That he trusted her without reservation with his deepest fears and vulnerabilities said more than words ever could. And she knew that attempting to put the breaks on their feelings was doomed to failure.

That was the first night they had spent together. She’d taken his shaking hand in hers, and told him he was coming home with her – that she would watch over him while he slept and be there for him when he woke. And that was exactly what had happened.

She remembered making a cup of hot chocolate for him, just like her Dad used to make when she was sick, and curling up beside him on the couch with an old movie. Eventually he fell asleep, his head resting on her shoulder and though she knew she should move, every time she tried, he would jolt awake, eyes wide with fear and terror. Eventually she surrendered herself to the situation and spent the night watching as his chest rose and fell, tenderly running her fingers over his face as he slept.

It was clear the next morning that they were a couple and there was no going back. Even after they had broken up, part of her knew that they would someday find their way back to one another. There was a magnetic force between them – a pull that never seem to abate. And so she wasn’t surprised that they got back together just before Heather Taffet’s trial. She suspected that he wanted her back when she had her pregnancy scare with Wendell. When he had told her _‘I’m your guy’_ , she knew that all she had to do was say the word. It was a heady feeling and she held off on the impulse even though she wanted nothing more than to be with him again. She needed to make sure.

When they found themselves stuck in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere, Angela knew that even in the most dismal circumstances, Hodgins could brighten her day. It was that knowledge that lead her to bring up their break-up.

She didn’t regret marrying him in the jail cell. It had felt right. And afterwards, when they returned home, case closed, for their first night as husband and wife, Hodgins had received the notice in the mail that Heather Taffet’s trial was due to begin.

He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t have to. Angela knew the damage she had done and she vowed to herself that she would protect him at all costs from the pain and memories this trial was sure to dredge up. But she couldn’t protect him from everything and sure enough the trial had taken a huge emotional toll on everyone involved. She knew it had been especially difficult for him to drop the charges against Taffet and risk her getting away in order to testify as an expert witness. She watched as his emotions ran the gamut, feeling her heart break every time Taffet fixed her soulless eyes on him.

She had never understood why someone would ever kill another human being until that trial. The hatred she felt for Taffet was so intense it frightened her. When he’d confessed to her in the lab that he was barely holding it together, she knew that she needed to be strong for the both of them – to make sure that even if Taffet was acquitted, that she would be able to protect him.

And now it was over. Keys jingled in the doorway as they made their way inside throwing coats and boots on the floor with abandon. She found her way into his arms, and kissed him deeply, reveling in the way his carefully groomed stubble tickled her face as their lips touched. His hands cupped both sides of her face and he placed feather light kissed all over as he guided her into his massive living room and gently lay her down on his soft, plush carpet,

“You’re not wasting any time, are you?” She grinned as his fingers made their way to the buttons on her shirt. Neither of them noticed that the big screen TV had been left on at low volume, so lost were they in one another.

“It’s been a long, hard, day,” he said, each word punctuated with a button being undone. “And I am going to make love to my wife.”

“Do you…” she hesitated as he opened her shirt and slowly, reverently began kissing her neck. A shiver ran through her, and she struggled to get the sentence out amidst his incredible ministrations. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About the case?” He gave a harsh laugh – too harsh and Angela knew that meant that the effects of the day were still with him. “I cannot even begin to tell you how much I do _not_ want to talk about the Gravedigger right now.”

“It’s okay you know,” she said, sitting up and drawing his eyes to hers, “to be upset, I mean. Today was…awful. Even though we won, it was…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted with an edge in his voice that wasn’t there before. “I just want to…forget.”

“Well I can’t,” Angela replied, feeling her own emotions surge to the surface. She’s spent so much time worrying about him that she had completely forgotten that earlier that day she had looked into the eyes of the cold-blooded psychopath who had almost taken everything from her. “I can’t forget it, okay? I think about it almost every day. You’re not the only one she hurt you know.”

“You think I don’t think about it?” He exclaimed, standing up and running a hand through his closely cropped curls. “All I do is think about it, Angie. All I see when I close my eyes is the inside of that car. I…I wake up in the night feeling like the air is running out. I see her eyes and I know that I got lucky. That I could have died that way…screaming and I’m terrified. But it’s over now.”

“Is it?” She asked, standing up and sliding her arms around his torso. She felt him exhale as she ran a finger lightly down the contours of his face. “I just…I’m worried about you.”

“I know,” he said, smiling crookedly at her. The gentleness in his expression juxtaposed with the pain he had been through nearly took her breath away. Slowly, gently, he kissed her again. This time she could feel the need in his kiss. What he couldn’t say in words, he would say with his lips, his tongue and his hands. Maybe for tonight, that was enough.

She found herself leaning into the kiss – being swept away by the tenderness of it. It deepened and Angela slid her hands underneath his sweater, wanting desperately to feel his skin against hers – the solidness of his chest against the contours and soft curves of her body.

Catching on to what she was doing, he eagerly divested himself of the shirt and she was left with the breath-taking image of the man underneath. She remembered being awe-struck by his physique the first time they’d made love. She couldn’t believe that under those innocuous lab coats lay a chest that seemed to be cut from granite.

What was even more impressive was the fact that he didn’t seem to realise what an amazing catch he was. Here was this wonderful, sweet man who had more money than God and an incredible body. It was almost too good to be true. And when he looked at her with such intense love in his eyes she asked herself what she had done to deserve his adoration – his trust and devotion. She had yet to come up with an answer but realised it really didn’t matter. He was here, and they had their second chance.

She reached out and ran her hands over his chest, starting at his collar bone and working her way down to his belt buckle. His skin seemed to jump every time she touched him and she could tell by the way his jaw was set – tightly, eyes glittering with emotion that she was having an intense effect on him.

When her hands reached his belt buckle, he gasped ever so quietly.

“God, Angie, you’re driving me crazy,” he growled. She smiled, feeling a familiar heat settle in her lower body upon hearing the timbre in his voice. She felt breathless and she worked his belt buckle, pulling it off swiftly so she could access the button on his jeans.

All of a sudden, he stilled and his entire body went rigid. At first she thought she’d hurt him, but the expression on his face told a different story. She looked in the same direction he was looking and saw that the nightly news was on the television and the anchor was recapping the Gravedigger trial.

She looked around until she located the remote and turned it off.

“That’s enough of that,” she said firmly, throwing it back down on the couch behind her. She reached out for him once more, but the haunted look in his eyes caused her to pause. His entire body was as still as a statue with the exception of his hands that trembled ever so slightly despite his attempts to control them. His breathing was shallow. She knew that if he didn’t sit down, he would end up falling down.

Gently, she guided him to the large sectional where he sat down, absently rubbing his finger over the knuckles in his opposite hand.

“Hodgins,” she said. Then, in a softer voice, she touched his hand. “Jack?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if to banish the thoughts that were plaguing him. “I just didn’t expect to see…”

He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Angela said, standing up from the couch.

“No!” He exclaimed, reaching out for her far faster than he had intended. “I…” He looked away, embarrassed by the emotions coursing through him. “Please…don’t go.”

“Never,” she assured him, sliding closer to him and placing the flat of her palm against his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of them sat together for a few moments in silence. Though they were touching, Angela felt miles away from him. She felt helpless in a way she didn’t understand. When he’d been taken by the Gravedigger, she knew what to do. She had to solve the puzzle and get him back. But now, with the case supposedly settled, the road map was less clear and she wasn’t sure where to go from there. All she did know was that he was hurting and that, in turn, hurt her.

Reaching out, she pulled him closer. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as if holding onto a life preserver. When he pulled back, he managed a weak smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eventually as a tear trailed slowly down his face. He wiped it away, stood up and picked up the television remote. Furiously, he whipped it at the wall causing it to shatter into thousands of pieces. Angela jumped at the violence of the action but stayed by his side. He began to pace, agitated by the image of the woman who had buried him alive having been beamed directly into his living room without any warning whatsoever.

“I hate her,” he was saying as he walked back and forth. “I mean, she’s in jail…we won. So why am I still so…upset by this? Why do I feel like she’s still here…or that I am still there…trapped in that car? Why can’t I just make love to my wife without feeling like the walls are about to close in on me?”

He sat down and buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking softly as he did so. Angela watched, helpless and unsure of what to do with the display of emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he said again when he finally looked up at her. “I’ll be alright, I just…probably had too much to drink. Maybe we should go to bed.”

“Yes,” Angela agreed with a nod of her head. “Bed is an excellent idea.”

She held out her hand, and silently he took it. They made their way into the bedroom each lost in their own thoughts. The bedroom featured a large canopy bed with a mahogany frame. To the right, was a huge walk-in closet that was almost the size of Angela’s old apartment. To the left, an entire wall of glass with an incredible view of the night sky. It always took her breath away every time she stared out it. Tonight, the expanse of sky combined with the dim lighting only made the room feel more intimate.

Angela pulled the covers down on the bed and went to work removing her unbuttoned shirt as well as the pants she’d been wearing. When she looked back up, she saw Hodgins watching her intently. She managed a small smile.

“What?” He asked, as a smile of his own crossed his lips.

“Are you ever going to stop watching me undress?” She teased, as she pulled her socks off. He placed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and grinned back at her. Angela was relieved to see hints of his old self returning, though his eyes were still weary and burdened.

“Never,” he vowed softly. He cocked his head slightly to the right taking in the sight of her. She wore a simple, but sexy white balcony shelf style bra and panty set. Her bronze skin seemed to shine in the lamplight contrasted by what little clothing she still had on. She bit her lip under his scrutiny, feeling suddenly oddly self conscious. They’d seen each other naked many times in the past, and yet tonight it felt as if he were seeing her for the first time.

She stepped closer to him slowly, tentatively and he wrapped his arms around her, running his hands through her hair.

“God, I love you, Ange,” he whispered before claiming her lips in a deep breathtaking kiss. Before she could think, she felt her pulse sped up as he deepened the kiss and her body instinctively responded. His left hand held her tightly to the back of her head while his right hand wound its way down to the small of her back. He pressed her lower body firmly against his and she gasped mid-kiss as she felt his arousal through his jeans.

A soft moan escaped her lips, as her hands made their way around his waste, and she explored the expanse of his back. He felt good – solid, alive and so very vital. Despite everything that had happened, their bodies seemed to know how to connect, unburdened by trauma or pain.

Her body hummed with excitement as his tongue explored the depths of her mouth. Her hands, found their way to the buckle of his jeans – still undone from earlier. She grasped the top of the zipper and pulled downward.

“We need to get these off,” she breathed through his kisses. Reluctantly, he let go and she watched as he struggled to pull the jeans over his now very prominent erection. She laughed as he got tangled up in the pant legs, becoming more frustrated.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbled as he finally pulled them free and tossed them across the room. She put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him, her eyes dancing with laughter and anticipation.

“Oh yes it is,” she murmured, bringing him close once more. Now the only thing that separated them was their underwear. Angela allowed her hand to graze over the bulge in his boxer briefs and a sharp inhalation was her reward.

“I love it when you touch me,” he said, his voice husky and deep. She hooked her thumbs inside the waist band of his boxer briefs and sank to her knees, pulling them down as she did so.

“That’s good,” she said, taking him in hand and looking up into his deep blue eyes. “Because I want to touch you right now.”

“Yes,” he breathed as she took the entirety of his length slowly into her mouth. “Yes, please.”

Spurred on by his reaction, she proceeded to lick, kiss and suck her way down every part of his length. Each action elicited a different but enjoyable response. Hodgins’ breathing quickened as he gasped and moaned his pleasure. She glanced up briefly, noticing that he had gripped the shelf behind him in an attempt to keep from losing his balance entirely – his knuckles white with the effort it took to keep him standing.

As his breathing grew more and more shallow, she knew he was close. She could feel it in the way his erection twitched inside her mouth and the way his hands ran through her hair. She loved the feeling of him when he came apart like this – so much so that she increased the pace.

Hodgins, however had other ideas. As he felt his control slipping completely, he summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed, his voice laboured as he said the word, “stop.”

Angela looked up in surprise, but stood up nonetheless. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed what she had been doing – far from it. On any other night he would be thrilled that she wanted to do this for him. Tonight though, he needed more. He needed her in a way he had never needed anyone before and when his eyes met hers, he knew she understood.

“I want…” he fought to find the right words that would convey the depth of his feelings for her. “I need you. I need to be _with_ you. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” she said, trying to fight the tears that suddenly threatened. She understood now. How to help him. How to break through. After everything that had happened he needed to feel alive, and he needed to feel like he wasn’t alone. He needed to connect with her in the most intimate way possible. Angela understood that need. “I need you too.”

With those words, he crushed his lips to hers once more, plundering her mouth with urgency bordering on desperation. His fingers nimbly removed her bra and panties as they made their way to the bed. Angela fell backwards with a laugh, reaching out and pulling him on top of her. He bit her lip ever so slightly as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Please, Jack,” she panted breathlessly. “Please.”

She wasn’t sure what the plea was for, only that she felt she might go mad if she didn’t have him inside her. He obliged and she felt that familiar tightening in her lower body as he filled her with his length.

He wasted no time, and immediately began to move – slowly at first, and then more and more rapidly as their bodies demanded. His hands made their way up her arms and eventually to hers, pinning her down as he worked himself in out of her.

She was moaning now, her head thrashing back and forth at the pleasure his thrusts created. This feeling was new between them. It was one born of raw need and passion. She knew that with each thrust, each moan, each build up of desire, he could banish the effects of being trapped in that car and relinquish the hold the Gravedigger had on him.

Her legs parted even further as he sped up his thrusts and she whispered his name, urging him to meet her at her climax as her body climbed towards its inevitable release. He did so, and their eyes met as he pumped himself inside her. She saw every emotion flicker through his blue eyes as he spilled into her and knew that as long as they had this – this moment, this connection, everything would be okay.

She felt herself tighten around him and cried out as her own climax hit her, holding onto him fiercely as the pleasure rolled over her in waves.

He held her tightly as she came down, her head buried against his shoulder. She could feel him gently stroking her hair, whispering endearments too quietly for her to make out the specifics. Slowly, gently, he lay her down on the bed and gathered her into his arms. Angela felt her heartbeat slow in time to his, her ear resting peacefully against the steady thump-thump sound, while she trailed lazy circles down to his belly button. 

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he replied, gently kissing her forehead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Brennan**

_The dream is always the same. Brennan finds herself running through a large empty warehouse, her heart hammering in her ears. She’s scared, though she isn’t entirely sure why. All she is sure of, is that there is danger all around her. Imminent, inescapable danger. She can feel the sweat beading on her forehead as she looks around, desperate to find some method of escape._

_Frantically she searches, seeing nothing but hallways all around her. The lights are dim and the hallways completely the same in all directions. Her anxiety climbing, Brennan breaks into a sprint, desperately hoping she is going in the right direction. Eventually she finds herself cut off by a fence, unable to go any further._

_Frustrated, she is about to turn around when she hears a familiar voice calling out to her for help._

_“Help me! Help me!” The voice belongs to Hodgins and Brennan can hear the terror in it. She knows that terror. It mirrors the fear coursing through her own veins. She races towards the sound of his voice, determined to help him._

_“Hodgins!” She calls out, hoping that his voice will guide her._

_“Help me!” He screams again and the sound curdles her blood._

_“Hodgins!” She cries out once more, as she reaches a large conveyor belt. It feels like her heart stops as she meets his eyes. He’s still screaming for help, though Brennan no longer hears specific words. Her terror overcomes her as she scrambles to get to him. She reaches out to him, only to see the conveyor pull him away. He cries out, reaching for her as she does for him, but he is too far out of reach. She can’t get to him. She’s failed him._

_She has no time to react because another voice pierces through her haze of terror. It is a voice she instinctively knows like her own._

_“Booth!” She screams, racing in the direction of his voice. She is determined not to get there too late. Determined to save him._

_She finds him trapped in a room, the door made of glass. She can see the fear in his eyes – identical to Hodgins’._

_“Bones!” He yells, pounding on the door. He’s desperate and that scares her all the more. The Booth she knows is calm, collected, competent. The Booth she knows is strong and able to protect those around him. And right now he’s helpless…scared. And she doesn’t think she can save him._

_The glass is cool under her palms as she feels around for a lock, a catch, anything that can help get him out. He’s throwing himself at the door with fierce abandon. Her eyes widen as she sees that behind him, the room begins to fill with water._

_“Booth! Booth!” Her cries are panicked – like that of a small child and her fists pound ineffectually against the hard Plexiglas. She can taste the salt of her tears as she screams and hits the glass._

_“Stay with me!” He pleads, and she knows that she would drown with him if she could. Her screams become a whimper as a familiar feeling of dread and helplessness envelopes her. The water is rising. It’s getting too deep and Brennan doesn’t know what to do._

_Suddenly a hand comes from behind and covers her mouth, silencing her cries entirely. She struggles desperately against her assailant but to no avail. She watches the fear in Booth’s eyes change to helpless rage as the rising water level rips him away from her completely._

Brennan awoke with a start. Confused, disoriented and more than a little scared, she took in her surroundings. Relief washed over her as her eyes took in the familiar sight of her tastefully decorated bedroom.

It was a dream. The same dream she’d been having days before Heather Taffet’s trial. She’d managed to wake herself up before the final part of the dream – the moment when she found herself trapped in a shallow grave with Taffet pouring dirt over her with a shovel, which was a small mercy.

She’d assumed that when the trial was over, the dreams would stop. After all, Taffet was going to jail and would no longer be a danger to her or her friends. It was a logical assumption – rational even. So why was she still dreaming about it? Why did she continue to relive the terror of losing Hodgins and Booth?

Angela would tell her to talk to Sweets and ask for his opinion. Brennan almost laughed aloud as she pictured what Sweets would say in response to her dream. He would likely tell her some psychological garbage about the dream being a manifestation of her fear of abandonment which were not going to disappear despite Taffet’s incarceration.

It was ludicrous. There was no way to determine anything about her state of mind through a dream. Psychology was, after all, a soft science with no hard data to prove anything. No, she wouldn’t be talking to Sweets about this.

And she also wouldn’t be getting much more sleep tonight. She ran a hand through her hair, only to notice that they were still shaking. She touched her fingers to her pulse. Still racing.

Adrenaline. She told herself. Nothing more. She just needed to calm down. To that end, she found herself climbing out of bed, making a mental note to wash the sheets in the morning as they were drenched in sweat along with her clothing.

Methodically, she pulled off her t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, replacing them with a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. The air felt cool against her skin and a shiver ran through her.

A warm glass of milk would help, she told herself. It was her go-to whenever she was feeling stressed. She would curl up on the couch with it, and a copy of the latest forensic anthropology journal that she’d been meaning to read. It would help her calm down and re-set her mind to more rational thoughts.

She padded out into the kitchen, forcing her mind to think about things unrelated to Taffet or the Gravedigger trial. This was just a side effect of the emotional events of today. The dreams would go away in time, she was certain of it. She’d experienced traumatic events in the past and she knew that by focusing on logic and rational thought, she could overcome this. She _would_ overcome this.

She drew a shaky breath and squinted at the brightness of the light inside the refrigerator as she opened it. She pulled out a carton of milk and made her way over to the cabinet where she kept her glasses, determined to keep the image of Booth being pulled away from her at bay. The tile felt cold underneath her feet, reminding her of the feel of the Plexiglas underneath her hands as she pounded desperately at the door to the room Booth was trapped in.

No. She wouldn’t think about this.

As she reached up to grab a glass tumbler from the cabinet, the tremble in her hands increased. A loud crash echoed through the empty apartment as she dropped the glass. She yelped, jumping backwards as the glass shattered and the shards scattered all over the floor.

Quickly she found a dustpan and broom and attempted to sweep up the remains of the glass. Her entire body was shaking once more, and she gulped at the air as a claustrophobic feeling overcame her – like the room closing in on her. She felt dizzy and for a moment afraid she might pass out. In her distraction, she felt one of the glass shards slice sharply into her hand and the warm blood that bubbled up from the wound snapped her out of her daze.

She needed him.

It came to her like a revelation. If she were religious she would say it was a sign, but since she didn’t believe in a higher power, the only explanation she could come up with was that she was having a panic attack and she needed the one person who would always anchor her.

She needed Booth.

Reaching up to the top of the counter, she grabbed the paper towel roll and hastily wrapped her cut in a makeshift bandage before drawing herself shakily too her feet. She located her phone and hit the speed dial for Booth’s number, glancing at the clock as she did so. It was three in the morning.

He answered on the second ring.

“Bones?” He said, his voice heavy with sleep and worry. “Bones, are you okay?”

“Booth?” She spoke, but her voice sounded completely foreign to her ears. It was small and fragile sounding.

“I’m here, Bones,” he said the strength of his voice a soothing balm against the rough edge of terror in hers. “What do you need?”

“You,” she said, crumpling into tears. A part of her hated herself. Hated that she sounded so meek and frightened. Hated that Booth could hear her that way. Hated that a mere dream could do this to her – a woman who had recovered Genocide victims and been held at gunpoint on several occasions. “I need you.”

“I’m on my way,” he replied with no hesitation. The click on the phone let her know that he’d hung up. A feeling of relief washed over her as she realised that he was coming. He would be here soon and everything would be okay.

She sank to the floor, and buried her head in her hands, allowing the racking violent sobs to overtake her as she waited for her partner to arrive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Angela and Hodgins**

Despite the exhaustion of the day and the intense lovemaking, both Angela and Hodgins found it difficult to fall asleep. Time ceased to have any meaning as they lay together, cocooned within the bed-sheets and entwined in each other’s arms. It would have been the perfect evening were it not for the events of the day. And though some of those demons had been exorcised via their lovemaking, she knew that – for Jack – they wouldn’t ever completely go away. Heather Taffet would always be with them. Sometimes that presence was subtle – he’d flinch whenever he rode an elevator, and no longer took the subway to work. The nightmares were a semi frequent fixture as well.

Other times she would see it in the explosive anger he sometimes felt especially whenever her name came up or there was a case that bore any sort of resemblance to the Gravedigger. He never directed that anger at her, but she knew it was there, simmering beneath the surface. In moments like this, however, it was easy to pretend it didn’t exist and just enjoy the time together spent lying in each other’s arms.

She wasn’t sure how long they lay there, but eventually she felt him shift from underneath her as he moved to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” She asked him, her voice feeling weightless in the darkness of the room.

“Bathroom,” he said as he flipped on the light. She grimaced as the light hit her eyes and pulled the bed-sheets up around her chest as she sat up.

“Do you think you could grab us a snack?” She asked him as he threw on a robe and headed for the door. “Since you’re up, I mean.”

“Sure,” he replied with a smile that told her he understood exactly what she wanted. “One scoop, or two?”

“Two, of course,” she said with a grin. “Today has been a two scoop kind of day.”

He nodded and left the room. He used the bathroom quickly, then made his way into the kitchen where he proceeded to take out two bowls and filled them with double fudge caramel ice cream – Angie’s favourite. He never thought he would have this life – a beautiful wife and a job he loved. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of.

The only dark spot was the pain that Heather Taffet had inflicted on his life. He knew that Angela loved him and he knew that she felt helpless in the face of such overwhelming trauma. She’d tried to convince him to talk to Sweets about it and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to. It felt like there was a constant weight anchored around everything he did and if he thought that there was any chance that Sweets might be able to help him be rid of it, he would do so in a heartbeat.

But for all of Sweets’ intelligence and training, he hadn’t been through what Hodgins had. He didn’t know what it was like face the possibility that he might die in a tiny enclosed space screaming for help while the air ran out.

There were only two other people who knew what that was like and both had their own issues to deal with. Booth might talk to him about it, but as a war veteran he doubted that his experience with the Gravedigger was any worse than what he had been through in the war. And Brennan, well…she was such a private person that he didn’t feel right trying to talk about it with her even though they had been through it together.

He sighed as he made his way back to the bedroom with bowls and spoons in hand. Angela had also put on a bathrobe and she accepted the bowl with a grateful smile.

“The perfect late night snack,” she said as she took a bite. He loved the way she seemed to approach food – as if it were an almost sensuous experience. Who was he kidding? He loved everything about her. He still couldn’t believe that he was lucky enough to be married to her and that they had the rest of their lives together.

“I’m surprised at how hungry I am,” he admitted, as he put the spoon in his mouth.

“We tend to work up an appetite, don’t we?” Angela said with a saucy wink. He chuckled, and he knew from the look in her eyes that if he asked her, she would be more than ready for round two. For the time being, however, he was sated. There was a calm inside him that hadn’t been there earlier in the evening and he didn’t want to do anything to disturb it.

Still, he could also tell that there was a part of her that still worried for him even if she didn’t voice that worry out loud. He needed to address it, lest it become an elephant in the room.

“I’m going to be okay, Angie,” he told her, fixing his eyes on hers. “You know that, right? This Taffet stuff…it will fade.”

“Will it?” She asked, setting her spoon down and reaching for his hand. “There’s a part of you I can’t touch…can’t understand. I want to help, but I don’t know how.”

“You do help,” he insisted. “By being here. By loving me. Every day with you helps. I don’t know what I would have done tonight if you hadn’t been here.”

“Gotten drunk and played X Box?” She joked, but the look in her eyes told him that she was taking his words seriously. He laughed.

“Likely,” he admitted. “But this was much, much, better.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” She smiled and he loved the way that she could make him feel as if they were the only two people in the entire world. She paused a moment – trying to decide whether she wanted to voice her next thought out loud.

She eventually concluded that she did and took a deep breath.

“What if we went away for a bit?” She suggested. “Like…took some time off. We could go anywhere…London, Rome…Paris?”

“And leave the Jeffersonian?” He asked, surprised by the suggestion. He knew Angela had always wanted to travel, but she had always told him that she didn’t want to take him away from his work. And he loved his work. Now, here she was suggesting they take off for who knows how long? Was it truly because she wanted to get away for a while or was it because she thought he was too damaged to continue doing what they did?

“Not forever,” she amended. “But yeah for a little while. We could put some distance between us and Taffet.”

“It’s not going to make it go away,” he told her, his voice deeply regretful. “I know you’re looking for a magic bullet, but there isn’t one. It’s going to take time. And there might be nights where I have nightmares or days when I am so angry I can barely see straight. But I will get through it. As long as I have you, I can handle anything.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, trailing a finger lightly down contours of his face.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said. “We’re needed here. But I’ll promise you one thing. If the time comes when we aren’t needed anymore…Paris will be the first on my list of places to run to. Deal?”

He held up a spoon and clinked it against hers as she smiled and leaned forward to kiss him ever so softly.

“Deal.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Booth and Brennan**

Booth arrived at Bones’ apartment inside of fifteen minutes. It normally took a little longer than that, but the time of night coupled with the lead foot he drove with to reach her sped up the process considerably. While he wasn’t surprised by the fact that she wasn’t as fine as she had insisted she was, he was a bit surprised that she’d not only called him but told him she needed him. Her inner armour was normally thicker than Kevlar – even for those she was closest to. The fact that she’d allowed him to hear her crack over the phone worried him more than a little.

He didn’t bother knocking on her door. Instead, he used the spare key he had in case of life-or-death emergency to let himself in. It had been something he’d insisted on after Howard Epps’ escape. He had only started becoming aware of his own feelings towards her, and he knew that working with him would expose her to danger. She’d protested his request for the key at first. He remembered her insisting to him that she could take care of herself. And she wasn’t wrong. He’d seen first-hand how proficient she was in various martial arts. He knew she could defend herself if she needed to.

But he didn’t want her to need to. And he didn’t want to constantly worry that something might happen to her and he wouldn’t be able to get to her. So he’d told her that if they wanted to remain partners, he needed a key. She’d agreed, but only if he gave her a key to his place as well. He obliged her request, and somewhere, deep down in the recesses of his heart, he had hoped that someday her key wouldn’t just be for emergencies.

Tonight, however, was different. While not an emergency in the strictest sense of the word, something told him to let himself in quietly…gently. There was a small part of him that hoped to walk into her apartment and find her asleep in bed, exhausted, but otherwise okay.

“Bones?” He called out, softly as he stepped into her apartment.

“In here,” she replied from the direction of the kitchen. She sounded just as lost as she had on the phone. His heart sank as he made his way into the kitchen and took in the sight of her.

She was huddled in the corner on the floor, her back up against her kitchen cabinets. She hugged her knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as if attempting to physically contain the emotions she was feeling. Her face was tear stained and her eyes heavy lidded with exhaustion. Glancing down at the floor, he could see the remnants of a broken glass on the floor in front of her along with a few vibrant red drops of blood.

Her blood.

His gaze drifted back to her and he noticed that her left hand had been hastily wrapped in paper towel, blood soaking through it. She barely seemed to notice.

“You’re hurt!” He exclaimed, sitting down next to her and taking her injured hand in his. She briefly glanced at it, as if registering the cut for the first time.

“I tried to get a glass of water,” she said absently, pulling her hand away from his. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“The hell you are,” he said, his jaw stiff as he tried to keep his own emotions in check. What he wanted to do, was pull her into his arms and kiss all her fears away. He wanted to lay her down in bed and hold her while she fell asleep, whispering to her that he loved her. Instead, he sat awkwardly beside her, wondering not for the first time just what it was he was doing there.

Hesitantly, he reached for her hand again and this time she didn’t pull away.

“It’s bleeding through the paper towel,” he told her. “It might need stitches. Will you at least let me bandage it properly?”

“You know how to do that?” She asked, with a curious tilt of her head. He felt a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth. That was his Bones. No matter how upset she was, her own curiosity would always take centre stage. And the idea that he might know how to dress a wound clearly intrigued her enough to forget everything else for a moment. He decided to press the advantage and slowly, gently, began unravelling the paper towel as he spoke.

“I was in the army, remember?” he said as he pulled back the bandage to get a better look at the wound. He sighed with relief. It was a large cut, but not too deep. If he bandaged it well enough it would heal on its own. “I wasn’t a medic, but I know how to dress a basic wound. Where do you keep your first aid?”

“Bathroom,” she murmured, the glazed look settling back over her face. “Medicine cabinet.”

He nodded and went to retrieve the items he needed, working quickly and efficiently. He returned, and gently helped her to her feet, where he took her hand and guided her over to the sink. He knew it must have hurt as he rinsed the wound and looked to make sure there was no more glass in it and yet she didn’t flinch. He wasn’t even sure she noticed. When he was sure that there was nothing in her hand that could cause an infection, he proceeded to use the gauze to cover the cut and wrapped it firmly twice with the bandages found her in first aid kit. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes told him she was grateful. When he was finished, he went to work cleaning up the rest of the broken glass.

Brennan allowed herself to exhale for the first time that evening since the nightmare jolted her from her sleep. She wasn’t sure if it was because the adrenaline was finally subsiding or if it was because Booth was here in front of her, safe and sound. Either way, she felt both exhausted and slightly foolish for begging him to come over the way she had.

“There,” he said as he finished his work. She made her way over to the couch and sank down onto it, studying her hand with rapt attention. “All finished.”

He sat down next to her, desperately searching for the right thing to say to her. She was vulnerable in a way he’d never seen before – a way she had never let him see before. And while he was grateful for her trust, he was also worried about her. Between the things she’d said earlier outside the pub and the middle of the night phone call, he knew something wasn’t right.

She knew he was concerned – could see it in the worry lines that wrinkled the top of his forehead. Sometimes it felt as if she could read his every thought and emotion. She’d never been good at reading people. That was always Booth’s strength. But over the years they had developed a trust and she had at least learned how to read him. Oh sure, there were times he made pop culture references that went over her head and his belief in religion and sentimental opinions on love were baffling and illogical. But even when she didn’t understand him, she found herself wanting to. She found herself wishing that she could believe the things he did if only for the peace of mind it seemed to bring him – a peace of mind that had forever eluded her.

She knew it had been unfair to call him this late. That was something you did with a lover – not with a friend. She knew that, and yet when she had needed him all common sense had flown out the window. All she had known was that she needed to see him – needed to know that he was okay. And now here he was on her couch, his feelings for her clear as day even to her, and she had no idea what to do with them.

After a few more moments of silence, she yawned and leaned her head against his shoulder. He resisted the urge to kiss the top of her hair, knowing that things between them were still tenuous. She’d never know how badly he wanted her – and not just in a way that was sexual. He wanted her in every way that a man could want a woman. He wanted her body, mind and soul. He didn’t want her to call him at three in the morning for comfort – he wanted to already be there, holding her close all night and waking up with her in the morning.

But it didn’t matter how much he wanted it. She was too frightened to take the leap – too convinced that it wasn’t possible for someone to promise forever and mean it. So he was stuck in this limbo – this place of loving her, but not being able to fully express it.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. In many ways it felt like a confession – an acknowledgement that she knew what he wanted and she knew she was unable to give it.

“For what?” He asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“For calling you in the middle of the night,” she replied ruefully. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

“You can call me any time,” he told her, hoping she couldn’t hear the depth of the affection in his voice – the feeling behind it. “I’ll always be here.”

“You can’t promise me something like that, Booth,” she said, trying – and failing – to hide the anxiety in her voice. Couldn’t he see how unfair it was of him to say things like that to her? Didn’t he understand that nothing lasts forever, no matter how much she wanted it to? Those couples he talked about that have thirty or forty years together do so by nothing more than sheer chance and statistical luck. She couldn’t risk her heart on something no nebulous. She sat up and inched away from him. “No one can promise that.”

He felt his jaw clench in exasperation. He loved her, there was no doubt in his mind, but sometimes her hyper rationality and literal view of the world made it very hard for him to convey to her how he felt. He knew that was likely intentional – that she was using logic and rationality to hide from her feelings. And yet it was those feelings that had caused her to phone him, crying at three in the morning. Something had caused her to break all her rules and reach out for him. That had to mean something, right?

“I can,” he insisted. “You’re my partner, Bones, okay? As long as there is breath in my body, I will be here for you whenever you need me.”

She looked away and he reached for her, touching her chin lightly with his fingertips, and turning her gaze back to his. There was real fear in her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer, gentler. “I’m here.”

“Booth…” she swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. His words caused a new round of fear to surface. _As long as I have breath in my body_. Heather Taffet had almost killed him – would have killed him if she hadn’t gotten to him in time. It could happen again. Didn’t he realise that? “I don’t…I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost.”

“Then talk to me,” he urged, “why did you call me tonight? What happened?”

“I…had a nightmare,” she said, tentatively.

“The same one you were having before?” He guessed. She nodded, and he could see the frustration etched in her features.

“I’m in a warehouse and I hear Hodgins cry out for help. I try to get to him but I’m too late. Then I hear you and….”

“The same thing happens,” he said, filling in the blanks. She nodded.

“There’s something else,” she told him. She picked up throw pillow and held onto it tightly as she spoke. “Usually the dream ends in me being buried alive by Taffet. Before the trial…that was the most terrifying part. Only tonight…tonight it never got past the part where you drown….right in front of me. I woke up…shaking.”

She shook her head and stood up, pacing back and forth as she worked through the events of the dream aloud.

“And you’re wondering what it means?” he asked. She had mentioned the dreams before the trial. He’d thought it unusual at the time that she would freely admit to him that she was having nightmares about her ordeal. He knew it bothered her to have to drop her own case against Taffet in order to be able to testify. Normally an intensely private person Booth knew that to admit to these dreams, meant the dreams were having a bigger impact on her than she let on. Tonight was evidence of that very fact.

“It doesn’t _mean_ anything!” She exclaimed in exasperation. “It’s just a dream. I just…I don’t know why I’m still having them.”

“Sweets would say that your dreams are your subconscious trying to help your emotions to break through,” Booth replied knowing the moment those words left his lips that she would not find comfort or answers in them. She’d made no secret of the fact that she saw now value to psychology as it couldn’t be proven empirically.

Sure enough, she shot him a withering look and sat back down again taking a deep breath.

“I thought…I thought when the case was over they would stop,” She admitted, drawing a shaky breath. He noticed her hands were trembling ever so slightly. “She’s gone, she’s in jail. We won. But then I close my eyes and I see you screaming for help, the water rushing in and I can’t get to you, Booth, I can’t….”

She trailed off and dissolved into tears. Booth watched, helpless as her face crumpled, the sobs racking her body. Instinctively he reached out, and crushed her against his chest. His arms were strong and his body felt warm and solid. She buried her face in the soft cotton of his t-shirt and shook against him, her tears soaking through the fabric. 

He swallowed tightly, his own throat constricting with pain as he held her and watched her cry. Slowly, he wound his hands through her hair, stroking her and whispering incoherently into her ear in an attempt to comfort her.

“Ssssh ssssh ssssh,” he murmured against the top of her head. His voice was a low rumble against her forehead. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m safe. I’ve got you. Ssssh, it’s all right.”

He repeated the mantra over and over until eventually her tears subsided and she sat back, swiping at her face with her hands. He could tell she was angry with herself for losing control in front of him and he knew it was best not to draw attention to it.

The fact that she was so scared of losing him both shocked and warmed him. If she cared this much, perhaps there was hope for the two of them some day down the road.

No, he wouldn’t think like that. She’d made it pretty clear that regardless of how she felt for him, she wasn’t ready to risk a relationship. The fact that she’d cried in his arms just now changed nothing.

“Why don’t I make you some tea?” He suggested, wanting to allow her the space to collect herself.

“Yes, tea would be good,” she replied trying to regain some control over herself. She hated the fact that she had broken down a second time in front of him. But what’s more, she hated the fact that he now knew just how scared she was to lose him. The last thing she ever wanted was to give someone that kind of power over her. After what happened with her parents and her childhood, she vowed that would never happen again.

And yet, as she watched him pull out the kettle and get the mugs down from the cupboard, a strange sense of longing overcame her. This was what she wanted – this simple domestic act of making her tea in the middle of the night. It felt like they were the only two people left in the entire world and she longed to hold onto the illusion that they could somehow manage to maintain this feeling forever.

She curled her feet underneath her as he padded back into the living room and handed her a mug. He hadn’t needed to ask her how she liked her tea – it was one of the many intimate pieces of knowledge they had acquired about one another over the past five years of working together. In many ways they were closer than some married couples though she would never point that out to him – it would only serve to reinforce his ludicrous belief that love could last forever if they simply wanted it badly enough.

She lifted the cup to her lips to take a sip and felt a yawn overtake her. It didn’t go unnoticed. He gave her a soft smile and set his cup down on the coffee table.

“I think maybe it’s time for me to go,” he said, gently but firmly. Though he would love nothing more than to stay, the sudden intimacy of the evening was becoming too much for him. It was one thing to come to her in her hour of need – to give her a shoulder to cry on and clean up a broken glass. It was quite another to snuggle up together on the couch in the middle of the night drinking tea as if they did this sort of thing every night.

“Please don’t…” she said, quickly before she had even realised the words had escaped her mouth. “Please don’t go.”

“Bones?” He inquired quirking his head slightly to the right. She couldn’t have just asked him to stay the night, could she? And if she had, what on Earth would he say to that?

“I don’t want to be alone,” he said, her voice was measured and calm but her injured hand shook ever so slightly betraying her still-fragile emotional state. She hated this feeling – this dependency.

Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, in the light of day she would make some changes. She couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to give. And it would. She would get up, and go to work, just as she always had. Booth would do the same. They wouldn’t speak of tonight – each for their own reasons. And it was just as well. She didn’t know exactly what would come next, but she had a feeling her time at the Jeffersonian solving crimes as Booth’s partner was limited. And if their partnership was hanging by a thread, she also know that she needed to have this night – this night when she allowed herself to need him. 

“I don’t know if I should…” he trailed off, knowing that this was a bad idea but unable to think of a single reason to say no. At least not out loud.

“Please?” She breathed. “My couch pulls out into a bed. It’s very comfortable. It…it makes no sense, I know but….just for tonight. Will you stay?”

Booth went still at her plea. Inwardly the idea of spending the night with her, but not _with_ her was the very epitome of torture. And yet, as she turned her beautiful turquoise eyes toward his, he also knew that he wouldn’t say no to her – that he couldn’t say no to her. Much like the dance they had shared at her high school reunion, he was powerless to deny her anything she wanted.

And that was a dangerous place for him to be emotionally.

Tomorrow he would have to put his foot down. He needed to find some boundaries between them – something that he could use to distance himself from her so that it didn’t hurt so damn bad every time he was reminded of the fact that she would never truly be his.

Oh, he wouldn’t use those exact words. An unspoken agreement had surfaced between the two of them ever since he’d confessed his feelings that Booth didn’t talk about how he felt about her and she pretended not to notice how much that hurt him. Which is why he knew that even if he stayed he wouldn’t talk about it with her tomorrow – it would be as if it never happened for both of them. All the more reason to take a step back – to make a change. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. Tomorrow he would have to re-think the way things were going. He would need to find some way to move on.

But tonight, he would give her what she needed. Tonight he would allow those eyes to pull him in once more in the hopes of seeing her beautiful smile. Tonight he would allow himself to pretend that things weren’t about to shift between them in a big way – that change wasn’t coming.

“Okay, Bones,” he said, smiling softly at her. “I’ll stay.”  
  
THE END

**The End**


End file.
